


Taking Care

by Anonymous



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, Hangover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “My head’s exploding and I think something has died in my mouth.”Jim couldn't contain a chuckle and smiled sympathetically.“I believe that. Guess you had fun though?”





	Taking Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My_Trex_has_fleas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/gifts).



> This is a little something I wrote for the Queen Of Darkhawk, [My_Trex_has_fleas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas), for the GatheringFiKi Secret Admirers 2018 on tumblr. Thank you for your apparently never-ending creativity and productivity. I don't know how you do it, just know I'm deeply in awe.

Jim took a sip of his coffee before throwing a glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. Again. It was already past noon and Ross still had not woken up from his drunken coma. Not that he had expected anything different. He knew the office parties of his department always run a bit on the wild side. Obviously, today caretaking was at order. And so he went into the bathroom and fetched two sachets of aspirin and an antiacid, as he knew his boyfriend would be in need of it as soon as he opened his eyes.

 

He prepared everything on a tray along with a glass of water and a second glass, which contained freshly squeezed orange juice, then tiptoed into the bedroom and put it on the nightstand at Ross' side. His boyfriend was buried under the duvet, only a heap of dark curls visible. He didn't even as much as stir, only his loud snoring indicated that he was actually alive. Jim sneaked out of the room to make himself comfortable on the couch, reading a book.

 

Two hours later the door to the bedroom carefully opened and a slumped figure stepped out. Jim would have laughed, but the thing which had exited the room had more similarity with a zombie than with his boyfriend. Ross really gave a pitiful sight. He was pale with a sickly green tinge around the nose. Despite he had slept well into the afternoon he had dark circles under his eyes, which seemed sunken in and bloodshot. His dark hair was dull and tangled. He leaned against the doorframe, shielding his eyes against the light with his right hand. Jim expected him to speak but there was only a pained moan instead and so he spoke first.

 

"Aaaawwww, my poor baby. Couldn't hold your liquor, could you?"

 

Ross mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “shut up” and shuffled towards the couch, his gait unsteady. He slumped down, supporting his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees and groaned in pain.

 

“My head’s exploding and I think something has died in my mouth.”

 

Jim couldn't contain a chuckle and smiled sympathetically.

 

“I believe that. Guess you had fun though?”

 

"Sure. But probably I should have skipped the shots.”

 

“Let me guess, tequila?”

 

“Various.”

 

“Oh, bad mistake.”

 

Ross nodded slowly with his head still in his hands.

 

“Thanks for the aspirin. You're my lifesaver.”

 

“You're welcome. I know you'd do the same for me.”

 

“Like last week?”

 

“Exactly. Like Last week”.

 

Jim walked over to his suffering boyfriend to sit down next to him and rub a soothing hand on his back.

 

“You know bloody Mary helps best?”

 

“Alone the word makes me want to vomit.”

 

“Have you been sick?”

 

“I think so. Right after leaving the bar.”

 

“That's a good boy, leaving the shit outside.”

 

He gently pressed a feather-light kiss on Ross’ temple and continued drawing patterns between his shoulder blades with his hand.

 

“I'll bring you a coffee and after that a bowl of the chicken soup I made earlier. That should be easy enough on your stomach.”

 

Ross smiled weakly at him and leaned sideways to put his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

 

“What would I do without you? Although I must say, I may have the mother of all hangovers, but certainly not the flu.”

 

"Feels pretty much the same, anyway."

 

"When you put it like that..."

 

“You feel awful and it will help you get better, no matter the cause. But now you should drag yourself in the bathroom. Unless you want me to get drunk only from your breath?"

 

After a long and hot shower, the promised cup of coffee and Jim’s homemade chicken soup, Ross’ condition had significantly improved. Maybe the medicine his boyfriend had given him had also had its fair share in this development. He lay on the couch, the radio playing quietly in the background, feeling pampered and loved because of all the affection his boyfriend had shown towards him.

 

Jim walked over and sat down on the couch as well. He put Ross’ feet in his lap, massaging them gently, until the other literally purred.

 

“You're my knight in shining armour.”

 

The blond chuckled but then turned serious.

 

“You sure you'll be alright by tomorrow for work?”

 

“I hope so. But I guess it'll be slow anyway. After all, my boss also had a good night.”

 

“George Warleggan partying and getting drunk? It's hard to picture that."

 

"But it's true. Who do you think bought all the shots?"

 

Jim laughed and then groaned.

 

“You can shower and brush your teeth as much as you want and still ooze the smell of schnaps from every damn pore.”

 

Ross snorted and his smile widened.

 

"Like you last week?"

 

"Exactly. Like me last week."

 


End file.
